I replay his words in my head.
"Please stop, you're making my life hell."
I'm making your life hell?
I'm making his life hell?
Yanic is suspended. I'm not sure how long, but without him, I'm wandering the halls mindlessly, even though I know everyone knows.
I think his parents took away his phone, and he's indefinitely grounded, probably longer than he is suspended, so I can't even talk to him. That idiot, why did he have to break that kid's glasses? Doesn't he know how expensive those things are? He always did take these things too far, though, and I almost always got into trouble with him. Laughing along, letting it happen, being a fucking enabler. An enabler? Yanic was only 12, just like myself, I am not being an enabler.
I drift back into reality and push my thoughts away, leaving them for later.
I can hear people whispering. About me. I know they know I can hear. That's why they're talking.
And they're talking shit.
"Did you hear?.."
"..and then beat up the kid.."
".. Jensen Graham.."
"The berry scoop did an episode.."
"..they should have been expelled, both of them.."
"What assholes.."
"..the newspaper club.."
The newspaper club. Jenny. Fucking Jenny, always getting into other people's shit. And Akilah, who filmed Yanic shitting on Jensen. Thanks, the newspaper club.
They probably love all the fucking attention they're club is getting.
They talk about stuff like this, I guess. To inform. To connect. To improve. Or something.
I stop at my locker and breathe for a few seconds. I count my breaths and lift my head back up,
People love villains, at least some people do. Quirky people, I guess. But as soon as it's real life, it's apparently scary as shit. I know there's a difference between fiction and reality. I know. I know, but-
My thoughts are cut off when my head is slammed into metal. My forehead hurts, and I use my arms to cover the rest of my head. I hear the group of jocks laugh and walk away, while others on the sides whisper about how I deserve it.
I'm more aware about this as before. I know it's just this week's drama and people will forget about it as soon as there's something else that happens. Some else to be mad at.
I grab the books I need and keep my head down as I walk into the boy's bathroom. I enter a stall, lock the door and sit down. I consider staying here for first period, but I'm in enough trouble as it is, and I don't see any point in hiding.
I take out my phone and check my messages. Warnings from my parents, threats from random students, nothing from Yanic.
I sigh, consider drowning myself in the toilet, but I don't because the toilets are unsanitary and I can't just leave Yanic hanging like this. He'll be burned at the stake when he comes back, but maybe the hype will burn out by the time he's allowed back.
I prepare myself for the turmoil of the hallway and leave the bathroom.
And I'm directly facing James and Sean.
Were they waiting for me?
"Hey." James speaks first. His face says it all- that yes, they were planning to do something to me. Embarrass me? The most likely choice, but I've already went through this morning and I'm so tired I can't bring myself to care. Beat me up? I doubt it, since that would make them look just as bad as me and Yanic, though others would see it as justified.
"Can you, like, move?" Sean says coldly and uninterested. Yet I know he's doing this so the kids watching will see him as some sort of hero.
"Sure." I mumble. I don't want trouble.
A few kids snicker as I walk away, and I drift back into my thoughts to block it out.
So why did I bully Jensen? Or more so, why did Yanic and I bully Jensen. Well, I did it because Yanic did it, and Yanic did it because I guess he just wanted to. He was being an asshole, and so was I, but I couldn't care. But I did care and didn't want to get into trouble so when Yanic took it too far, I tried to stop him.
"I just want to go, okay? Give him back his stuff."
Well my efforts were meaningless, except for that part was caught onto the video that was posted of us bullying Jensen. "Oh, well if he was sorry, he wouldn't have done it in the first place" was the public's opinion on that. That or they thought it was an act to get out of trouble. Maybe it was.
I get to class, and look at my seat, which is in the front. Fucking great. Kids stare as I make my way to the seat, and whisper as I sit down and get my stuff out of my bag.
The kid next to me, who's a jock, also fucking great, grabs my arm. A sharp sting goes through my arm and I pull away. The kid snickers and I take my pencil and bury myself in my book.
I pretend to read, though I'm not processing any of the words, and I feel blood sliding down my sleeve.
. . .
